


Winter's Dawn

by roe87



Category: Captain America (Movies), Stucky - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Humor, Brooding, Kissing, M/M, Male Bonding, Romantic Angst, Romantic Friendship, Sweet, men kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 14:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1651820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roe87/pseuds/roe87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Soldier has been running, and Steve Rogers has been following him. But when The Soldier realises that Steve has stopped chasing him, he's confused... and frustrated. </p><p>So he goes to find Steve himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Winter's Dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pickles_davila](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickles_davila/gifts).



> I've seen this movie 3 times at the cinema, and own none of these characters. I just swoon at them ^_^

 

 

The walls were painted yellow, but cracked and mouldy. He’d been staring at them for some time now and didn’t care about the paint or how shabby the room was. The flashbacks would come without warning, sometimes brief flickers, or sometimes he’d zone out completely. If he dared stop to remember.

Lately, he’d been trying not to.

These flashbacks, the zoning out, they left him vulnerable. Even in a safe house–or as close as he could find–he was afraid to sit still too long, to stop and look at the images unfolding behind his eyes.

_Memories?_

Some were more like images: detached, no feeling. Like watching a movie. Others he could feel and smell. Often those were the ones he didn’t _want_ to remember. So he kept moving, kept running, just enough to let his mind have some quiet. Think about where to hide next, where he was going, who was out to get him or take him back.

If Steve was following him.

His mind threw up a lot of information when he thought of Steve. Almost too much: _Mission. Friend. He attacked me. I knew him_. Grainy images from a faraway place, of the blond man leading him into skirmishes and fights. They had fought together, with a group of men, but in those flashes of memory he always looked to Steve.

And then there were the images of Steve in a different body. Smaller. So frail, and yet staring back with such determination in his eyes. Were those all memories? Or implanted information by…

By whoever the man worked for. The information seemed so garbled now, swallowed up by the smoke and mirrors act that his mind had become. There was a dam in there, somewhere deep, he could _feel_ it. And when that dam broke he knew he’d find out even more.

It terrified him, which was why he trusted his gut instinct when it told him he didn’t have to know it all at once. That dam, _he_ was the one holding it up. Because he wasn’t ready to face it yet. All he knew for sure was he’d walked a dark path for a long time, and there’d be consequences when he strayed into the light.

But he could out-run all that a little longer.

_Where is he?_

Nearly a year since he’d gone on the run. And almost all of that time, Steve had followed him. _Steve_. He’d used to think of the man by codenames only. _Mission target. The blond man._ Now he was just… _Steve_.

Such an innocuous name for someone who meant so much.

_You’re my friend_.

Steve had tried to shake his resolve since the first time they’d fought. Steve had called him _Bucky_ , like it was fact, when he’d been without a name for so long he didn’t even know how to deal with this. In his eyes, he’d always been a soldier.

What was he now?

A creak in the hallway. Thankfully he heard it. The soldier snapped his head towards the door, and waited.

_He’s late_.

It’d been nearly two months since Steve last caught up to him. The soldier was agitated by that. Was Steve giving up on him? Or had he simply lost him? So the soldier had made his trail a little more obvious. Like he hadn’t been giving away clues to his whereabouts to Steve before that.

_Forget it. He’s here now_.

Memories of Steve’s hands on his body almost sent him on another flashback. Except, these memories, they were _real_. They’d happened so recently he knew they were real, because he could still taste and smell and feel them. What’d happened between the two of them was real, the soldier just didn’t know _why_ it’d happened. Why did Steve want him that way?

At first the soldier thought he’d acted on pure instinct toward the man who wouldn’t leave him alone–very base instincts, and he couldn’t resist–but after each encounter they’d had, his mind went into overdrive and he suspected it was all an elaborate set up. A set up to get him to trust Steve, to take orders from him.

But… why go to that much trouble? Implanting the memories, and such random ones at that. Steve with a small body, looking frail. What was _that_ all about? All it did was make him want to protect Steve even more.

Shit. He’d zoned out again. How long?

Another creak in the hall, indicating more than one set of footsteps, then a shadow passed over the grime-stained window. Someone was outside on the fire escape.

_They’ve surrounded me_.

His instincts told him to move, just as the bullets broke the glass. They whizzed past his head as he flung himself backwards, rolling over the bed and picking up his gun. Whoever was in the hallway started shooting too, so the soldier pulled the bed up on its side to use as a shield.

Who the hell was _this_? Had Steve come to kill him?

_No_.

Steve wouldn’t hide, somehow he _knew_ that. So who was it? Someone with Steve, or had others picked up the sloppy trail that had been left? The soldier set his jaw, and grabbed his second gun, tucking into his clothing.

No one was taking him today.

When the bullets stopped, the silence was deafening. Through the door, a voice gave the order, “Go in and check…”

The order was left unfinished as the soldier broke down the door, already shooting bullets in both directions at his attackers. They were surprised. Now they were dead. Three down, but more were behind them. The hallway was too narrow: they couldn’t get a clear shot at him before he was on them. He broke arms and bashed skulls against the walls, smashing everyone out of his way as he sought out the internal fire escape.

It was a short brawl. Rage powered him, clouding his judgement as he pounded up the dusty stairwell, heading for the roof. Whoever had shot at him from outside were going to wish they hadn’t got out of bed today.

At the back of his mind was the question, _where’s Steve?_

 

 

~

 

_Four months later_

 

Where the hell _was_ Steve?

The soldier glared at another set of four walls, another empty room in another city.

Seriously, what the hell? What was he supposed to do, set up a neon sign above every place he went to? He was sick of getting trailed by hitmen and attacked by squads. The more he had to fight rogue without any clear mission, the more the rage took hold of him and he got sloppy. Every time it wasn’t Steve that showed up, it surprised him.

And he _hated_ surprises.

This whole situation was… not what he’d expected. And worse still, his arm needed maintenance. The gears were getting stiff, not helped by the recent combat. He didn’t know how to open any of the panels on his arm, or how to fix what needed fixing. They’d never given him the knowledge, and he couldn’t remember ever desiring to know.

Until now.

If he couldn’t rely on his arm in a fight, or it stopped working completely, what would he do then? Would Steve help him?

The soldier folded his arms, hunching his shoulders as he sat against the wall on his bed. Where _was_ Steve? Was this just part of the plan to get him to trust Steve, to go to him of his own choice? What then? What would they ask him to do?

Steve worked for S.H.I.E.L.D., or he _had_. He couldn’t have worked for Hydra if they’d been so intent on killing him. And yet, these were all just more codenames that didn’t mean much to the soldier. S.H.I.E.L.D., Hydra. They were names he’d only learnt recently, by himself. He couldn’t remember ever being so overloaded with information: before it’d been clear missions, clear targets… then _nothing_. Long periods of darkness.

Now he was free–rogue–to dig around as much as he wanted, except he wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t any more.

_Steve_ was real. His body, his mouth, the way they moved together. The soldier closed his eyes, wanting to relive those moments more than anything else. Forget the other memories, forget organisations trying to kill him and all those floating threats, forget everything else. He’d take those few precious moments with Steve, where somehow it felt as though nothing else existed when they were together. Just them, and the way Steve looked at him.

His breathing had become ragged. He opened his eyes, not quite focussing on the bare wall ahead of him. He had to stop thinking. But what else could he do? He’d gone rogue, he didn’t have anyone…

Except Steve.

The memories unfolded slowly, like his own mind wanted to seduce him with images of Steve naked, remembering the slick slide of skin against skin. Steve was a gorgeous man. There was something about him, something the soldier was drawn to and he didn’t know why. Like an invisible thread was tugged inside him whenever Steve was close.

_Dammit_.

He huffed in annoyance. He was hard, and horny. Damn, he wanted Steve. He wanted him bad. And instead of being with him, he was sitting here on his own, working himself up for no reason at all. Had the man gotten into his head that bad?

_Damn him._

The soldier purposefully slowed his breathing. He tried to blot Steve out of his head too, but was less successful.

_Maybe next time, you’ll find me._

The last words Steve had said to him. Was this some sort of punishment then? For what? For not being obedient? Steve hadn’t given him any orders, nor really asked for anything. So why was Steve punishing him now? What had he done?

He grunted again, determined to ignore his throbbing cock. What was the point being here on his own, asking himself questions he didn’t know the answers to? What was the point in touching himself to relieve the ache, when it only came back all too soon?

There was only one man who could make this right, and despite suspicions that it was a trap, the soldier was frustrated to the point of not caring. He had to find Steve.

He had to find him right now.

 

 

~

 

 

_One week later, in D.C._

 

At first, the soldier simply watched him from a distance. Steve was in a different apartment now, and seemed to live alone. The soldier didn’t want to address the _relief_ he felt at that discovery. He filed it away to deal with later, along with everything else that felt as though it wanted to burst free and drown him.

_Keep it together_. _Don’t show weakness_.

After the first day of surveillance, the soldier became jittery, desperate to break into the apartment and appear to Steve. He’d hesitated, through fear. Not fear of being attacked–Steve carried on what seemed like a normal home life, reading a book, making himself a meal for one–no, it was fear of being rejected.

What if Steve didn’t want him there? Maybe he’d only tried to recruit the soldier for operational purposes, and used any way he’d known to lure him here. What if he’d lied about everything else, about being his friend?

_He hadn’t lied. He hadn’t_.

If he had, then it had to be one hell of a set-up, including that exhibit in The Smithsonian, all those reports online… That look in his eyes when they fucked.

_Stop it._

As the soldier wrestled with the thoughts in his head, he watched Steve go to bed, and the night watched over them both.

_This is stupid. What am I doing here? I should just go in, demand an explanation…_

Morning came. Steve rose early, while it was still dark. He dressed in sweats, and left his apartment. The soldier tailed him to The Washington Monument.

The first two laps, Steve did alone. Then as he came around on his third, running perfectly smoothly, he slowed down. The soldier watched. Another man had appeared, also dressed in sweats. He jogged more slowly, a regular man.

The soldier knew who it was instantly. The one who’d been helping Steve, the one with wings. The soldier narrowed his eyes. What the hell was he doing here?

Steve had paused to greet the man, then after a brief exchange and a friendly wave, he took off again on another lap. The flying man, grounded today, followed on at a steady jog.

The soldier watched Steve run circles around him for nearly thirty minutes, but each time he neared his fellow, he slowed down and must have spoken. His fellow saluted after him one time, the next time he called back a retort as Steve sped off, and the third he kept looking over his shoulder in order to say something first.

Both men had smiles on their faces during these exchanges.

_What the…?_

The soldier felt his heart thudding low, his head light and woozy.

_No._

_No, not with Steve. Surely…?_

They were just friends, these two. Allies. They were… What if they were more? Was this why Steve hadn’t come looking for him?

Jealousy and confusion spurred him into action, and he left his hiding spot. As daybreak brightened the sky, he strode down to the edge of the water, not caring who saw him. He was in full view to anyone watching, but all was silent. Steve was over halfway around the water by now, his fellow in pursuit.

The soldier took a deep breath, and positioned himself directly in what would be Steve’s path. He tried to keep his breathing under control.

Barely a few moments later, Steve was approaching. The soldier kept himself still, huddled inside his coat, almost afraid to show himself.

Steve spotted him, and paused. He was still some distance away and seemed cautious. Then he ran forward, coming to a stop just a few feet away. His face registered surprise, eyes fixed on him, lips open as he panted.

“Bucky.”

The soldier blinked. It wasn’t a question now, but a statement. Steve’s codename for him, for all he knew, but as the soldier looked back at him now, he found he didn’t care so much for details. True or false or something in between, he didn’t care. Let Steve have him, he’d readily hand himself over.

If only he got to be with Steve.

He meant to reply, but words never made it out. This was him giving himself up to Steve. Maybe Steve wouldn’t want him to speak? The soldier waited, half expecting an order, or for Steve to turn him away.

Steve stepped closer, and the soldier jerked back. Steve held up his hands, and remained still. “Sorry,” he said, only slightly breathless. “I just…” He looked him up and down, then smiled warmly at him as he met his eyes. “It’s good to see you, Buck.”

Relief coursed through him, but he didn’t want to let it show. Instead, he nodded curtly. What came next? Would Steve give him a mission? Had he worked it out yet: he’d won. Whatever it was Steve wanted, he’d won it.

“Are you all right?” Steve asked, catching him by surprise.

The soldier blinked, aware he’d zoned out again. He felt inadequate, a sub-par soldier, and scruffy at that. Appearance hadn’t been top of his list lately, especially in Steve’s absence. Now he realised maybe he should’ve made more effort to look presentable.

Steve looked glorious, as always. Fit, healthy, glowing…

Doubt crept over the soldier. This must be some trap. No way this was as innocent as Steve made out. And yet when he glanced up, Steve looked at him with the same apprehension, like _he_ was unsure.

_This is sure as hell screwed up_.

And then, Steve’s fellow jogged up to them. The soldier hadn’t noticed his approach until now.

“Steve,” he began, breathless and sweaty, eyes trained on the soldier warily. He came to Steve’s side, even as Steve held up a hand and assured him.

“Sam, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Sam’s eyes widened slightly, still not leaving the soldier. “Are you sure?”

Steve looked at Sam, and Sam looked back. Whatever passed between them, Steve made himself clear. “I’m sure, Sam.”

“Well…” Sam glanced at the soldier, but seemed resigned. “My bag is just up there.” He nodded his head to a line of trees. “How about I go get some water, and you talk to your friend here?”

“Yeah.” Steve smiled at him. “That’d be good.”

“Hn.” Sam began to walk away, cautiously. “I’ll go get the water,” he mumbled. “I’ll bring some back, okay?”

“Thanks, Sam.” Steve watched him depart, then looked back to the soldier. There was a look on his face, like he was trying to figure something out.

The soldier glared back at him, unable to hide the hurt he felt at seeing Steve with someone else.

“Sam is my friend, Buck,” Steve stated calmly.

The soldier blinked, his features shocked out of their scowl. He hadn’t realised he’d been giving so much of himself away.

“A friend of mine is also a friend of yours,” Steve said.

His head swam. _Friend?_

_Bucky, you’re my friend._

“What kind of friend?” he spat, jealousy firing through him.

Steve seemed to consider this, and concern showed on his face. “I didn’t mean… Bucky, not like that. Not like you and me. But Sam is a good friend. He’s just looking out for me.”

The soldier glared back at him, digesting the words, whether Steve was sincere.

Did it matter? If anyone else wanted Steve for themselves, he’d shoot them.

“You… you and me,” he gritted out, still afraid Steve was going to turn this around and tell him he was nothing more than a soldier, that they couldn’t be close. Any control he thought he’d had over this, he’d well and truly lost.

Steve took one step forward. “You and me.” He waited, but the soldier didn’t move. Steve took another step. “I missed you.”

His mind reeled, more than if he’d been hit. I missed you too, he wanted to say, but couldn’t find the words. His body shook, and the air became almost too thick to breathe.

Steve had stepped closer to him in this time, and as vulnerable as it made the soldier feel, he wanted Steve close. He wanted him. As Steve’s arms came around him gently, the soldier lifted his arms, loosely returning the embrace. He wasn’t sure about this yet. His head swam.

He wanted to believe.

Dare he?

Steve squeezed him harder, seeming to breathe him in as he inhaled, then rested their heads together.

“Bucky.”

That word exhaled near his ear. The sound kick-started the memories of them together, breathless and naked, sharing pleasure. The sounds Steve made, the way he felt, all buzzed through his mind. The soldier felt all his anxiety melt away, replaced by a warm and dizzy feeling.

He turned his face, mouth seeking Steve’s, and Steve seemed to know. Their lips met in a hesitant greeting, but then the soldier opened his mouth, offering himself. Steve took it, tilting his face and immediately deepened the kiss. Tongues swirled together, their breathing quickened.

The soldier felt his stubble rub on Steve’s smooth face, felt Steve’s hand rest on his neck, thumb brushing his jawline.

He almost moaned into Steve’s mouth, but a sound interrupted them. The scuff of a foot on the ground.

“Whoa.” A chuckle, as the pair broke apart. Sam was there, a bottle of water in each hand, and a grin on his face. “Don’t mind me.” He chuckled again. “I’m, er… I’m gonna get back to my run now. Steve, here.” He gently tossed one bottle, which Steve turned to catch with ease.

He cleared his throat, brows pulled together. “Thanks, Sam.” He shifted from foot to foot, and this made Sam chuckle again.

“No problem. I’ll catch up with you later.”

The soldier glared after Sam as he jogged away. It was then he noticed that the sun had come up, its rays turning the sky bright and glowing.

“Do… er…” Steve tried speaking, but seemed tongue tied. The soldier watched him, waiting. “Do you want to… go for a run?” He glanced down at the soldier’s attire, perhaps rethinking that offer.

Now the unease had abandoned him, even temporarily, the soldier managed to find the words he wanted.

“I think I’ve run enough.”

Steve smiled at that, though he seemed thoughtful. “Maybe…” He swallowed, fiddled with the bottle in his hands. “Maybe you’d like to come home with me?”

Relief, and that strange floating feeling invaded the soldier. He tried to tell himself to be on guard, that he was playing right into this man’s hands…

But he didn’t care.

“Yes,” he said, afraid to voice more.

Steve looked up at him, and the morning light certainly did suit him, highlighting his blond hair and the features of his face. He smiled happily, and it was devastating.

“Then let’s go,” he said quietly, turning to lead the way.


	2. On Your Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One morning, Sam gets a couple of new track buddies. ^_^

It’d been over a year since the incident at the Triskelion and their lives had been disrupted. Months of searching for Steve’s wayward companion with little to show for it–as far as Sam knew–and then covert ops for Nick Fury when he’d learned they’d been travelling across half of America searching for The Winter Soldier.

_Sure you got time to help me out on the side_ , Nick had said.

Sam didn’t know if Nick was still in Europe or back in America, and he didn’t care to know. All had grown quiet for now, and Sam had been pleased for a couple months of relative peace. Surprising as it was, suddenly Steve had announced he wanted to quit searching for Bucky, and return to D.C.

_Sometimes you have to wait things out_ , he’d said.

Well, Sam didn’t need to know the details, so he’d taken it as a blessing in disguise. Being back in D.C. made him feel more at ease, but he’d known Steve was brooding. The guy could try to mask it all he wanted, but Sam saw through that.

That’s why he’d tried to involve Steve with the VA meetings, seeing as he loved helping people so much. And why they did their morning runs as often as they could. Sometimes Steve even slowed down on his laps to make fun of him, and Sam played along, pleased Steve was _talking_ at any rate, even if it was jokes at his expense.

It’d been nearly two weeks since Steve’s _companion_ had shown up out of the blue, in the middle of their run. Looking like a lost hobo, or something. Sam didn’t want to get close enough to smell the guy. Steve, being Steve of course, took the guy home. In his gut, Sam trusted The Cap’s judgement on this. He’d had faith that his friend would return, and it looked like he was about to get his wish.

Sam sorely hoped so, for Steve’s sake. Sam’d had two messages, the first one a few days after ol’ Bucky had shown up, assuring Sam that all was well and they were both fine. Sam had raised an eyebrow and _Mm-hmm_ ’d to that message.

Again, he didn’t need details.

The second message, over a week later, had enquired when their next run was set. Sam had replied with _Wednesday_ , and hoped Steve would show. Sam had missed their runs.

 

 

~

_Wednesday_

 

Sam made his way down to the waterfront, and stashed his water bottle near his usual tree. There wasn’t a soul about. The sky was all grey, brightening to white and peachy hues as the sun prepared to break the horizon. Sam loved this time of day.

He checked his watch again and glanced about, almost nervously, looking for Steve.

Nobody.

Well, maybe he couldn’t make it after all. Sam tried not to feel disappointed, and began his warm ups instead. He stretched and jumped on the spot, then after he’d stalled as much as he could, he gave a small sigh and started his jog.

His feet hit the ground in a steady rhythm, and Sam gazed out at the water and the sky. He’d almost made it half a lap before he heard the light pound of running behind him. Before he could even turn his head, a familiar voice said, “On your left.”

Steve Rogers breezed past his left.

Sam grinned, and turned his eyes front to watch Steve race ahead of him. “Uh huh. On my left. Got it.”

More footsteps from behind. Sam slowed in surprise, managing a half turn before another figure flew past his right. This man wore dark coloured sweats, with a long sleeved shirt to conceal the arm, but Sam saw the metal hand and the light glinting off it. He had his long hair tied back, and slowed his pace in order to throw a very serious glare back at Sam.

Remembering how dangerous he was and the last time he’d fought with this man, Sam slowed too, holding up his hands. “Whoa.”

They came to a halt, and The Winter Soldier kept right on glaring at him. What was this? Sam’s instinct told him _danger_ , but then he heard Steve’s voice up ahead.

“Bucky!” he called. “Sam’s our friend. Come on!”

Bucky glanced toward Steve’s voice, then back at Sam. His scowl had been wiped away. Sam stayed as he was, and Steve called again.

“Bucky.”

With a frown, milder this time, Bucky turned away and ran toward Steve, picking up his pace and leaving Sam in the dust.

“Whoa,” Sam said, to himself. “Message received, bro. He’s all yours.” He shook his head, then started his jog again. “Like I need _this_ in the mornin’,” he muttered. “More amped up runners on my track. I’m the only one not cheatin’.”

He was wary for a few minutes, even daring to check behind him for his new companions to overtake him. When they finally did, breezing past his left and his right, Sam snorted lightly to himself. Then he watched them as they ran ahead of him. Bucky hadn’t quite caught up to Steve, but the way they ran was fluid, totally in sync with each other.

“Huh,” Sam huffed to himself. “Look at that now.”

He smiled.

Maybe The Cap would have to watch _his_ left from now on.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaay, Stucky! I luv Stucky so much! ^_^
> 
> I really had to get these feels off my chest and felt like writing a real heart warming, clean and pure ficlet instead of my usual smut. *looks innocent*
> 
> However i do usually respond well to smut-prompts. *nudge/wink* ;p
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
